


Truth Or Lies

by Toxic_Valentine



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Emotional Hurt, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everything Hurts, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, F/M, Feels, Harry is a Good Friend, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Liam Payne & Harry Styles Friendship, Liam Payne & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, Liam-centric, Louis is a Good Friend, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major triggers, Minor Perrie Edwards/Zayn Malik, Minor Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Multi, Niall Horan & Liam Payne Friendship, Niall is a Good Friend, Oblivious Zayn, POV Liam, Pining, Pining Liam, Protective Louis, Protective Niall, Sad Ending, Sad Harry, Sad Louis, Sad Niall, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sensitive Harry, The Author Regrets Everything, Triggers, Underage Drinking, Unrequited, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Zayn Malik Loves Liam Payne, management sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 13:13:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8715385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toxic_Valentine/pseuds/Toxic_Valentine
Summary: The one where Liam is falling apart but nobody notices until it's already too late..





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is NOT mine. Somebody else on here wrote this but deleted their account so I wanted to repost it. 
> 
> If the original author is reading this, you're amazing and please don't be upset with me for posting this. ALSO THERE IS A LOT OF TRIGGERS, PLEASE READ TAGS!
> 
> -xx

 

 

* * *

 

  
Liam drags the blade more harshly into his skin, both his teeth and the razor biting down mercifully, blanking out his mind as small buds of red bloom and bead before creating harsh slashes and lines against smooth tan.

 

It’s all he has left now, really, the pain. Everything else has been taken away: the happiness, the relief, even the sadness and anger. He’s gutted out and hollow. A battered carcass that not even the hyenas (or management) can pick from anymore.

 

He’s released from his shackles but only because there isn’t anything for them to hold anymore.

 

He’s broken, beyond repair.

 

Breathing shallow, he takes another slice out of himself, out of nothingness, until red fills up the space that was once a void. He has to fill himself up again, has to fill himself with something so that he can continue.

 

They all expect it: the fans, the boys, management, his family. Everyone.

 

And each subsequent gouge against his flesh is like the crank on a toy, winding him up so that his blank eyes can blink slowly and his legs can carry him forward, creating the illusion of life that he had perfected years ago.

 

Of course, he hadn’t needed to pretend in years either, and that tells in the way he’s cutting through healthy skin and small, gray scars, not the angry red and purple and black he remembers from the past. But just like that time, he isn’t expecting anyone to notice.

 

Especially not him.

 

Zayn.

 

Because he’s never noticed. Not Liam's feelings, not his suffering from the sides, not his internal battles whenever Zayn's relationship comes up during interviews.

 

He hasn’t noticed the marks that spread from his hips down his thighs, or the sprinkling just beneath his shoulders. Faded, undistinguishable from a distance, but up close…unmissable.

 

Of course, no one ever bothers to look that closely.

 

He’s just Liam. Not worth the trouble.

 

Not worth a relationship or a thought or a care. Not worth anything.

 

And now he’s nothing. Truly, truly nothing. And worth even less than before. Because who would want pain? A choked laugh transforms into a hiss as the blade moves again, severing more ties and leaving him open. Because the almost drugged, cloudy irony isn’t lost on him. Liam Payne…Liam Payne... He almost laughs again but ends up biting back tears instead.

 

No one will ever want him.

 

His mind flashes back to the interview, how he had to sit and watch from behind as the host questioned Zayn about his engagement, presented him with a gift, giving congratulations and smiles. Liam had almost been sick, had just managed to force a laugh at the appropriate time.

 

But it was too late. He was gone.

 

Back in his room with the door shut tight and locked even though it’s just him in the flat, he lets the blade slowly bring him back to life. But even that is failing. Every cut is just another reminder of what could’ve been. Or at least, what he’d dreamed to be. (He’s past the point of deluding himself that he and Zayn could ever be together).

 

And doesn’t care anymore, just can’t do it. Suffering in silence while his heart raged war with his mind, he could deal with that. Shrugging off all of Louis’ sympathetic glances and Niall's too-tight hugs and Harry's concerned eyes, he could handle it. Looking online and finding that so many fans had seen right through him while the person he cared for remained oblivious, he could pretend he didn’t care.

 

He could push himself through all of those things.

 

But Zayn's tattoo had shattered him, left him mangled. He had spent an entire week piecing himself back together, a jagged edged puzzle that no longer fit together, cracks evident just beneath the surface.

 

And the proposal…that was really all he could take.

 

And he buckled. Fell. Like a worn-down building in the strongest of earthquakes, he crumbled hopelessly to the ground.

 

Beyond repair.

 

His eyes are a bit foggy and he makes himself blink, staring down at the mess that was once his body. There’s a lot of blood, more than he remembered there ever being, and there’s a small puddle forming on the floor. A small voice tells him he’s bleeding too much, that he’s dying, and that thought doesn’t scare him at all. Instead, he blinks again and walks to the bathroom.

 

Best not to ruin the carpets. Someone might want to buy the place.

 

After all, he doesn’t need a flat anymore. He doesn’t need anything anymore.

 

And he isn’t needed, either.

 

It’s perfect, really.

 

He briefly wonders if he maybe shouldn’t leave some kind of note, but even that seems redundant. They’ll all know why he did it. Hell, people he’s never even met before will know why he did it. He doesn’t need a note.

 

But, he can at least do one thing…even if they don’t care, it’d make him feel better. And he deserves that, at least, right? He’s taking himself out of this world to make it a better place, surely he wouldn’t be begrudged this one last thing?

 

Scanning around and feeling himself growing dizzier by the moment, Liam bites his lip and shrugs, leaning over the counter and dragging his bloodied wrist across the mirror. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a part of him is screaming about germs and disease, but it’s quickly silenced. Because he won’t have the opportunity to be getting sick.

 

A small smile tugs at his lips as he steps back, looking over his message. It was perfect. He staggers a bit, head spinning now, and forces himself to think.

 

He’s going, and logistically, he knows someone is going to find him eventually. Whether that be someone from management wondering why he hasn’t answered calls or one of the lads checking in on him, it’s going to happen. He doesn’t want it to be hard on them though. He has to make this clean.

 

Because he just can’t anymore. But that doesn’t mean he has to be an ass about it.

 

With a lot of effort, he manages to get himself to the tub, turning the tap while he begins the process of shucking off his clothes. He can feel his skin pulling, opening further in some places, and the trickle of blood down his arms and legs is unmistakable. Finally, he’s able to maneuver so that he’s sitting on the edge of the tub in just his boxers, sticking one limb under the water at a time, watching rust colored water swirl down the drain with a kind of childlike fascination.

 

Who knew dying would be so easy? So peaceful…

 

A jarring, buzzing noise pierces into his consciousness and he turns to face the sound, his phone rumbling across the counter.

 

He blinks, so slowly, having to force his eyelids back open, before rising to his feet and stumbling to the other side of the bathroom.

 

Incoming call: Louis Tomlinson

 

Liam hits accept and lifts the phone to his ear.

 

A beat of silence. “Li? Liam are you there?”

 

“Lou?” Liam hears himself mumble.

 

“Yeah, Liam, it’s me. How are you?” There’s an edge to his voice that Liam doesn’t understand.

 

“M’fine, Louis.” Liam manages. “Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

 

“Li, I…” There’s a pause. “Have you been drinking?”

 

Liam shakes his head, not caring that Louis can’t see.

 

“Because you know I’d have come over, any of us would’ve. Or we could’ve taken you out. In fact, we still can. Want us to come over, pick you up?”

 

Liam's heart flutters, a sad excuse for the nervous pace it once used to set. “No!” He’s startled by the loudness of his own voice but pushes it away. “No, don’t come over, want to be alone.”

 

“I know you do, but maybe it’d be better to have someone there with you at least? I could just sleep on the couch tonight.” Louis offers, nearly pleading, and Liam doesn’t understand why.

 

“Wh- I- No…” Everything is foggy and jumbled now, fuzzy at the edges. The room won’t stop shifting and then his legs give out from under him. He slumps to the floor and leans his forehead against the side of the tub.

 

“Li! Liam!” Louis is shrieking into the receiver and Liam forces a small hum past his lips. “Liam, what happened? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

 

Liam hums again. “Jus’ fine, Louis. Jus’ leaving, s’all.”

 

There’s a horribly silent pause. “Leaving?” Louis chokes out, as if keeping back tears. “What do you mean? Liam, no, you can’t…”

 

“M’sorry, Louis. Tell the other guys for me, yeah?”

 

“No! No, Liam! You stay with me now! You’re not allowed to leave!”

 

“S’too late.” Liam sighs. “S’too late…”

 

Louis lets out a strangled sound and the line crackles for a bit. “Guys…” Louis whispers. “Guys you have to…to say goodbye to Liam.”

 

There’s a rush of sound, of questions, and what sounds like a battle for the phone.

 

“Liam? Liam? Fuck, what’s going on, mate?”

 

“Niall…” Liam manages to twist his mouth into a smile, but his voice sounds wrong, and he knows Niall can hear it too.

 

“Liam…” Niall sucks in a breath. “Liam, why?” He sounds so small and confused, so unlike the Niall Liam's used to hearing.

 

“Had too,” Liam's eyebrows pull together, he doesn’t get why no one else understands.

 

“Louis... there’s no…?”

 

“Fuck, Niall, listen to him.” Louis sobs. “We’re down to minutes, if that. We have to hurry, say goodbye.”

 

Niall swallows. “Liam…I love you, mate. Okay? You know that, right?”

 

“Yeah, love you too, Niall.”

 

“G’bye…” Niall whispers and then he’s gone, the phone being passed along.

 

The first thing Liam hears is a sniffle. “Liam? Liam, I don’t want you to go!” Harry wails into the receiver and normally Liam would pull the phone away with a wince, but now he’s too tired to care, the sound muted, even, as if he were underwater.

 

“I've gotta Hazza.” Liam nuzzles into the cool porcelain and hooks his arm over the edge of the tub, trying to rinse of the fresh blood making rivulets down his skin.

 

“Why, Liam? Why? Were we not enough? We love you, Liam! We love you! Was it really not enough?” He breaks down then, and Liam wants to shake his head but his body is getting pretty numb so he decides against it.

 

“Harry…I love you, too.”

 

“Then why!?” Harry shrieks, hysterical, and Liam can faintly make out Louis’ voice in the background, trying to calm Harry down, saying something about waking someone up that Liam doesn’t quite catch.

 

“…hurts, Harry.” Liam finally whispers. “So much…can’t do it anymore…”

 

Harry sobs again, choked this time. “Does it hurt now, Liam?” His voice is soft. “Does it still hurt?”

 

“No…” Liam murmurs. “Not anymore…jus’feels funny.”

 

“Alright then,” Harry whimpers, sniffling obviously before continuing. “So long as you’re happy, Li... you’re happy now, right?”

 

“Yeah, Hazza... ’m happy.”

 

Harry holds his breath for a moment and Liam leans over to grab a towel from beneath the sink. His fingers fumble on the handle but he gets it eventually.

 

“…Goodbye, Liam. I’ll think about you everyday.”

 

“Yeah, Harry, me too.” Liam slurs, shuffling himself onto the fluffy cotton and staining it, but feeling satisfied now that his mess is more controlled.

 

He finally feels at peace, happy, and that warm, fuzzy feeling is getting even stronger, making it nearly impossible for him to keep his eyes open. So he stops trying.

 

“Guys? What’s wrong? Why are we stopped? Is that-?”

 

This voice cuts through him like a thousand razors, so much more painful than anything he’d inflicted on himself what feels like just minutes ago, and a low whimper escapes his lips.

 

“Why is everyone crying? Who’s on the phone?”

 

“It’s Liam, he…” Louis breaks off with a sob and there’s some static before, “No, Zayn, that’s not a good idea.”

 

“What? Why? I want to know what the hell’s going on, Louis.”

 

“Liam…” Harry mumbles, sounding far away and muted, almost as hollow as Liam himself feels. “Do you want to say goodbye to Zayn?”

 

Liam chokes again, tears streaking down his cheeks and everything is wet and red and confusing and why hasn’t it all gone to black yet?

 

“Goodbye? Why the- What the fuck is going on? You guys are scaring me!”

 

Zayn, who is always so cool and collected, sounds like he’s breaking. And Liam wonders just how terrible a scene it must be. A small twinge of guilt grips his heart but is immediately quieted with whispered promises that this is for the best, and that they’ll all better of without him. It’s just shock, that’s all.

 

“Give me the fucking phone, Harry.” Zayn snaps. Someone sobs, Louis yells, and then there’s silence, steady breathing, an intake of breath.

 

“Liam? Babe?”

 

Liam can’t help the sob that escapes him, because that’s just too much, after everything else, that just stings more than he thought physically possible.

 

“Liam, are you crying? What’s wrong?” Zayn sounds almost panicky, but Liam knows it must be his mind playing tricks on him. “What’s happened?” He presses again, not receiving a response save from shallow, uneven breathing.

 

Running shaking fingers through a sea of red, Liam holds onto the last pieces of himself, lets them slip away the same way everything else has.

 

The happiness, the relief, the sadness and anger. Now, even the pain disappearing.

 

“G’bye, Zayn.” Liam whispers, so soft and forced, barely able to push the air past his lips. His world swims and he hears a thud, eyes opening minutely, catching a glimpse of the ceiling before falling shut again. Somehow, the phone is still pressed to his ear.

 

“Liam? Liam!?” Zayn's yelling, but Liam hardly hears him, can only tell by the slight catch in his voice. “Fuck, Louis, the door!” Zayn hisses. There’s another curse, a thud, and the sound echoes in Liam's head, almost as if he’s hearing it twice.

 

“Liam!?” There’s no mistaking it now, the jumbling chorus of sound. He can’t even tell who’s calling him anymore, it sounds like so many voices at once.

 

There’s another thud, closer but at the same time far away. Another curse.

 

And more blood slips down his arms, down his legs, through his fingers and away.

 

Until there’s nothing left at all. Not even pain.

 

A small smile is gracing Liam's lips as the world goes black around him.

 

xXx

 

Zayn isn’t sure what to expect when he bursts into Liam's bathroom. But it certainly isn’t a slick floor and stained towels and a body that’s been shredded in more ways than he cares to imagine.

 

He wants to be sick, the way his shoes stick against the tiles, but he drops to his knees instead, grabbing Liam's head in his hands and letting the phone clatter to the ground.

 

“Liam!” He yells, not willing to believe this is happening. He just has to wake him up, he’s just sleeping, that’s all. They’ll wake him up, wash him off, and it’ll be like none of this ever happened. “Liam!” He cries again, tears escaping down his cheeks which he quickly wipes away because damnit this isn’t happening. There’s blood smeared across his face now but he doesn’t care.

 

“Zayn,” someone shakes his shoulder, and he turns to face Louis’ haunted eyes, then follows the jerk of his head to the mirror.

 

"Sorry" is all it says.

 

But Zayn can’t look away from the simple word. He’s almost too horrified to ask, but he has to anyway. “Is that…?”

 

“It’s his blood.” Harry whispers, reaching up to trail a finger through the curve of Liam's ‘y’, leaving a blank space and a red print.

 

Zayn really wants to be sick now. But Liam is still cold and motionless in his arms and he has to do something but he doesn’t know what and it’s killing him.

 

Someone shoves him out of the way and he falls back on his ass, too shocked to do anything but stare as none other than Niall crawls over Liam's battered form and puts a hand just above his mouth. He frowns and turns to Louis, barking out an order to the only other person in the room who has it somewhat together. “Get some towels and try to stop the bleeding, I’m going to do CPR.”

 

Louis nods and Zayn can do nothing but hold onto his own hair as Niall begins breathing into Liam's mouth.

 

Liam's lips had always been a point of fascination for him, but now, seeing them pale and still and tinged with red…he still feels a pang of something like jealousy in the pit of his stomach. And fuck why is he so dumb?

 

“I’ll go wait by the door…” Harry mumbles, hands shaking, eyes glossy. “…for the paramedics.”

 

He wanders out and Louis is bustling underneath the counter, grabbing towels and pressing them everywhere he can reach, tying some and holding others in place. He throws one at Zayn and hisses, “ _Keep that around his wrist. And this time, don’t you **dare** let him go.”_

 

Zayn blinks owlishly at Louis but does as he’s told, applying pressure to the deep serrations on Liam's forearm while his mind whirls. This time… Louis had said. Zayn bites his lip and looks up to where Niall is still breathing into Liam's mouth, pumping his heart but only with half his strength, wary of having him bleed anymore, stuck between keeping Liam the man and Liam the body.

 

But maybe they had lost Liam the man a long time ago.

 

Maybe he had just been too blind to see what was right in front of his face.

 

“How long?” He chokes out, knuckles turning white. Louis glances over at him but shakes his head, looking down to where he’s compressing Liam's thigh instead. _“How long?”_ He asks again, desperate now.

 

“Since X-factor, you fucker.” Niall's snaps between breaths.

 

And Zayn's never heard Niall quite so upset before. But he understands why.

 

He deserves it.

 

“No…” He whispers. “No…” He repeats again, louder this time. He reaches up and grips a part of Liam's arm that isn’t stained red. “Liam, you can’t leave me…not now…not when I just found out how you feel…”

 

But Liam still isn’t moving, and Niall's still breathing air in his lungs and pumping his heart, and Louis' still motionless while trying to hold him together, and all Zayn can do is cry.

 

Somewhere out in the living room, Harry is frantic, rushed voice choked with tears and so unlike his usual slow drawl.

 

Then there are people in the room, people Zayn doesn’t know, who are pushing all of them out of the way and crouching around Liam's motionless form.

 

Looking around, everything’s stained red, from the floor, to their hands, to the towels, to their souls. Everything is just red.

 

Liam's time of death is announced later, at the hospital, and when the boys are allowed in to say their last goodbyes, everything is clean. But he still sees red. And he knows the others see it too, can tell by the haunted looks on their faces.

 

Liam's chocolate eyes will never shine again, his cheeks will never flush, and his laugh with never create the crinkles and ridges that Zayn once so adored. His mouth will never give them advice, direction, or understanding ever again.

 

He’s just _gone_.

 

And Zayn's left wondering why his everything was taken away and replaced by nothing but pain. He hadn’t even known and that somehow makes it worse. He didn’t know about the center of his universe until he was suddenly sent flying off into space, lost and alone and so, so cold.

 

And it’s then and there that he solemnly swears, he will never love anyone but Liam Payne for as long as his heart’s still beating.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is NOT mine. Somebody else on here wrote this but deleted their account so I wanted to repost it. 
> 
> If the original author is reading this, you're amazing and please don't be upset with me for posting this. ALSO THERE IS A LOT OF TRIGGERS, PLEASE READ TAGS!
> 
> -xx


End file.
